The Dragonborn Comes
by Monkorpio
Summary: A politically savvy Argonian, a Khajiit who's practically a Nord, a Vampiric Thalmor, an ex-Stormcloak slave, a Redguard mage, and a young, awkward Dark Elf are apparently the only ones who can save Skyrim from the growing dragon threat. That's probably not true, but they're the only ones willing to try. (Rated T because I'm paranoid.)
1. Something of a Prologue

" **Well, that was quite the heist, eh?"** Brynjolf asked, bumping fists with the thief next to him. The thief wore a mask, obscuring her face. She nodded, and Brynjolf took a swig from a bottle of Nord mead.

Recently, Birna had disappeared from Winterhold to go visit family. The thief had decided to ask Brynjolf to come up and raid the store. Brynjolf didn't need to know that she had killed Birna and thrown the body off of one of Winterhold's cliffs. "The Guild will be fed for the next month, warmed by mead. Nice fetch, lass. I'm heading out, feel free to search for any spare change while you're here."

Brynjolf walked casually out of the front door, not fearing the guards. The thief went upstairs and searched for loose septims in the drawers. She found some gold, but what intrigued her the most was a worn notebook. Without opening it, she dropped it silently in her bag. There'd be time to read it later.

For now, there was someone she needed to kill.

Birna's body was found a couple of days later by some hikers, the stab in her back carefully covered up by the assassin. After careful examination, the guards blamed the broken body on suicide and sent it to Falkreath.

Of course, the citizens were rattled. What scared them even more was the next body, found floating in the ocean near the shore. One of the guards that was most invested in the case of Birna's mysterious death. His clothes were discarded on the shore, as if he had gone swimming and drowned. The other guards were quick to dismiss it as a 'foolish youth underestimating the temperature', as their hands were full with the college and all.

It wasn't until the third death that the guards became worried. The body of Ranmir, brother of the late Birna. The assassination wasn't even hidden that time. Blood spilled from Ranmir's neck and pooled on the frozen ground.

The assassin was getting sloppy.


	2. Beginnings (Daenerys)

(A/N - I'm sorry if some things don't line up with lore, I tried my best to stay as canon as possible, but sometimes I need to break it a little bit so the characters can work. (Also yes one of the characters is named Daenerys I made her in the game at like 2 AM.))

 **Nothing is as it should have been. Nothing will be that way again.**

These words were the only ones written in a journal that Daenerys had found a couple weeks ago while doing a small job for some extra coin. The journal was currently stashed in her dresser, and she had been repeating the words over and over in her head.

Nothing was normal in Skyrim, Daenerys was sure of that. The undead attacked, Thalmor attempted to assassinate her every other day, Daedra descended from the heavens and gave her strange, mystical weapons for doing one stupid fetch quest.

The way it was phrased was ominous. Nothing was as it 'should have been'? Did that refer to the prophecy about Daenerys or something else? Some greater evil? The journal hadn't belonged to a mage or a priest, just some merchant. The Argonian shouldn't have paid them so much mind.

Daenerys stood up from where she had been sitting on the patio, just outside of Proudspire Manor. She had been shocked multiple times to have been thinking of herself as Daenerys. That had been the fake name she'd used when she'd been kidnapped by the Imperials. None but her closest friends knew her true name, and she intended to keep it that way for now.

Daenerys was about to leave and see if the Jarl had any more tasks for her when the door behind her opened. Onmund came running out, scrolls in his arms. "Dear, I think I figured out how you communicate. Look at this." Onmund unfurled one of the scrolls and Daenerys peered over his shoulder. It spoke of incantations and magicka and ingredients and all the things Daenerys wasn't interested in, so she just nodded. "Let me try, wait."

Onmund stared at Daenerys for a while, and the Argonian was disappointed when nothing worked. Daenerys was about to turn and leave when she heard Onmund's voice in her head, clear as day. "Did it work? Daenerys, by the Nine, it worked!"

Onmund's voice pierced straight through Daenerys's skull, echoing around her brain. She was unnerved to hear someone talking in the same way she did. "That's wonderful, dear. Unfortunately, I can't be as excited as usual. I need to head to Windhelm for a few days. My brother invited me down, seeing as Shahvee is dying," the Argonian responded. Onmund looked shocked for a moment.

"Of course, Danny." Daenerys smiled slightly; she loved Onmund's numerous nicknames for her. "If the Jarl needs you I'll tell her where you've gone. Are you sure there won't be any trouble from the Nords? I'll come with you, if you want."

"I'll be fine, Onmund. I've been to Windhelm enough, don't forget we lived there for a while. Calder will help me, and Ulfric won't let anything happen to his precious Storm Blade." With that Daenerys gave Onmund a quick hug and was summoning her horse from the stables, riding off West.

It was an exhausting ride, and when Daenerys got to the city she gave her horse to the groomers and collapsed in Hjerim, disconcerted by sleeping alone in the cold house. Thankfully Rolff's revelries were finished by the time she arrived, and she didn't have any trouble entering the city.

As soon as dawn came Daenerys was gone, already at the Argonian Assemblage. The cloak of her robe billowed behind her; she'd figured if she was important in this city, she might as well dress like it. Snow fell softly on her head and robes, chilling her to the bone.

 _Nothing is as it should have been. Nothing will be that way again._

Daenerys shook the cryptic words from her head. Now was not the time to dwell over a crazed woman's journals, now was the time to mourn for Shahvee.

It appeared the dock workers had been given a day off to make Shahvee's passing as painless as dying could be. Daenerys flexed her gloved hands, sparks igniting between her fingers. The poor Argonians had to work for little to no pay, and were constantly harassed by the Nords. She was the only Argonian allowed to enter the city. When Daenerys had become Thane she'd vowed to change that, but she hadn't had time with everything that was going on.

Daenerys quietly promised to herself that when she was done she'd speak to Ulfric about letting the dock workers into the city. As soon as the mage arrived on the dock in question, she was embraced by Scouts-Many-Marshes.

"I'm glad you came, Speaks, I know how close Shahvee was to you. It must've been hard for you to get down here," Scouts said at last, releasing Daenerys.

"I'm fine, brother. A wolf attack on my way through Riverwood, but nothing I couldn't take care of," the purple Argonian reported. Scouts gave her the look only an older brother can give.

"You passed through Riverwood, did you? Happen to stay at the Sleeping Giant Inn?"

"I am a married woman, Scouts!" Daenerys slapped her brother playfully on the arm, slightly offended. Scouts-Many-Marshes laughed, but his mood dampened quickly. "I suppose we should attend to Shahvee."

Shahvee died that day, as the sun was setting. Daenerys cast all the spells she knew that could make the passing less painful, and the older Argonian woman had passed peacefully in her sleep. Daenerys now sat in the top floor of Candlehearth Hall, a pint of ale to her lips.

Stenvar sat next to her, telling a story about how he fought a whole horde of giants. Her old travelling companion was always fun to be around, and Daenerys enjoyed coming by Windhelm every so often to spend time with him. She had heard the rumors that were whispered in the city, of course, but she chose to ignore them.

"What happened to you, Danny? You're so boring now. You never go out on any adventures," Stenvar complained. Daenerys put down her ale and shrugged.

"I do need an escort to Winterhold. I've caught news that there's a promising new blood at the College, and as the arch-mage, they want me to tutor her myself. I'm oft attacked by horkers on the coast, and I need some brawn to defend me," Daenerys mused.

"Don't sell yourself short because I want to get out of this inn." Daenerys smiled at her old friend. She couldn't recall the first time she had met Stenvar, she'd just remembered travelling with him. She'd given him up after he'd almost died in a bandit den, but she'd missed his company on the road.

The next morning Stenvar and Daenerys rode out for Winterhold. Daenerys had bought a horse for Stenvar, much to the Nord's protests. The beast was large; it had to be to support Stenvar's weight. A couple of horkers attacked them on their way, but certainly not too many for Daenerys to handle alone.

Stenvar didn't say much until they reached the college, he was a man of few thoughts and fewer words. Daenerys found something peaceful in the silence. Before long they'd arrived in Winterhold, and Stenvar was amazed by the vastness of the college. Daenerys walked confidently up the steps. "He's with me," she assured when Faralda questioned her about the Nord warrior's presence.

"This place is amazing," Stenvar breathed when they entered college grounds. Daenerys couldn't help but smile. She was awfully proud of the college herself, and had even paid her own gold to have some expansions made after she was named arch-mage. She still wore Savos Aren's amulet around her neck.

Daenerys found Tolfdir waiting for her in the Hall of the Elements. A young Redguard woman stood next to him. Strangely, white patches covered her dark skin. She was much shorter than Tolfdir and Daenerys, and looked intimidated by the cloaked Argonian.

"This is the promising student?" Daenerys remarked disdainfully, sending the message straight to Tolfdir and blocking out the Redguard from the conversation. Tolfdir shook his head in disappointment.

"Daenerys, this is Shiva. She's shown great promise in the school of Restoration, and I believe you should teach her yourself," Tolfdir began, "and before you interrupt, yes, I know you specialize in Destruction and Conjuration, but Shiva is quick to learn and slow to forget. I'm sure she could show even you a thing or two."

Daenerys cocked her head slightly. "Alright, Tolfdir, how long will it take to train her?" The Argonian didn't have all year, she promised Onmund she'd be home soon. Daenerys smiled slightly, she'd met Onmund in this very school. Maybe she'd invite him up and he could help out.

"Shiva, if Daenerys chooses to train you, it shouldn't take long. Only about a month, if she doesn't run off on any adventures. It usually takes much longer to train an apprentice, but I don't think the College could survive both of you combined."

Daenerys nodded to Tolfdir.

"Shiva, it may take a while to get used to the way Daenerys speaks. It's a special kind of magic the college has yet to classify, and we are working to recreate it." Tolfdir was clearly proud of his old pupil.

Daenerys reached out towards Shiva, opening her to the conversation. "As Tolfdir said, this may be a little unnerving. I'm sure you'll get used to it soon enough." The Redguard jumped when Daenerys 'spoke', but as expected, she quickly calmed down.

"It's an honor to be training under the arch-mage," Shiva bowed slightly. "If I may say so, you have an...interesting reputation. Daenerys. I was looking into you on my way here, it's quite a distance from Hammerfell, There have been many books published about you, ma'am, I'm not sure if you knew. One spoke about dealings with the Thieves Guild, and for a moment I was worried we had another Maven Black-Briar on our hands."

Daenerys allowed herself to smile slightly. "You've done your research before coming here, that's good. Do you know what training under me will entail, exactly?" The Argonian dismissed Tolfdir and Stenvar with a wave of her hand, so it was just her and her new apprentice in the Hall of the Elements.

"Well, not exactly. I'm almost positive it will include magic, though. And hours of studying in the Arcaneum," the eager young Redguard guessed.

"You're wrong on one account," Daenerys answered. "I absolutely detest studying magic. The only reason I go in there is to search for dramatic stories, my favorite has to be the extraordinary tale of Barenziah. If you haven't read those volumes yet I'll be sure to find you a copy." Daenerys cleared her throat, realizing she had been distracted. "I'll have you know that making me arch-mage is the worst choice these mages have ever made. I simply don't have the time to focus on College business. That means I'll be taking you out into the world a lot, going on missions and such. You'll learn much about what Skyrim truly thinks of magic."

Shiva perked up at hearing this, a new light shining in her eyes.

"Now, don't get too far ahead of yourself. I'm an important Argonian, and I also am completely going to take advantage of having an apprentice to do tedious tasks. I may ask you to scribe a letter, or go to the store to fetch something. Expect to meet the Jarls of the holds, as I'll certainly be sending you as a representative if they need to talk to me."

Shiva blanched, and Daenerys grinned. "I'm assuming Tolfdir already showed you your room in the Hall of Attainment? Good. Congratulations, the first thing I want you to do is write a letter for me. I need to get it to my husband Onmund in Solitude. I'm inviting him up here to help with your training, he's much better with people than I am. I'm going to go get you those books from the Arcaneum."

Shiva rushed away to go compose a letter, holding papers close to her chest. Daenerys chuckled, entering the Arcaneum. In truth, the Argonian just wanted to see how Shiva would respond to doing boring tasks. It would be a while yet until Daenerys trusted her with the big magic.

It took almost an hour of convincing, but Daenerys managed to convince Urag to let her take out all of the volumes of the uncensored _The Real Barenziah._ When she returned, Shiva had already sent out the letter and was reading a book on Wards in the Hall of Attainment.

Daenerys put the ten heavy volumes down on Shiva's desk, putting a hand up before the Redguard could protest. "Pleasure reading. You don't have to read these if you don't want to, don't worry."

Before the Argonian could continue, the unmistakable accent of a Khajiit rung out across the hall. "Daenerys! Tell your mercenary to not threaten J'zargo with swords! J'zargo only tried to look for spare change in your shirts."

Daenerys poked her head out of the doorway. Brelyna was laughing as Stenvar held J'zargo as sword-point. J'zargo was holding up one of Daenerys's shirts. "It's okay, Stenvar. J'zargo, don't take my gold, or I'll have you kicked out of this college," Daenerys threatened lightly.

Shiva looked up to see if there was a real problem, but she didn't investigate properly. Once she was sure the problem with the children was taken care of, Daenerys looked back at her apprentice. "I took care of that letter you asked me to send, hopefully I didn't offend your husband at all."

"It's quite hard to offend Onmund, I'm sure he's fine," Daenerys assured. "Now, before I take you out for the first time: how do you feel about Frost Trolls?"


	3. Small Jobs (Hawk)

" **Get out of my way, cat, before I make you."**

The city of Falkreath was Hawk's least favorite place. He couldn't get a drink without some drunk Nord slurring at him. The Khajiit wrinkled his nose, getting to his feet. "I'd like to see you make me. It would make my day."

"You think talking like a Nord will make you fit in? You'll make a great carpet." Before the Nord could move, Hawk threw the offender's ale to the ground. It smashed, glass spraying in all directions. Hawk grabbed the Nord by the neck and lifted him up, slamming him against the bar.

"Hah. you furless ones think you are so great. Measly Nord does not compare to years of Imperial training." Hawk sat down and took a drink of his ale, and the conversation resumed as if nothing had happened. Valga leaned across the bar to converse with the scarred Khajiit.

"What's with the name, Hawk's Storm? It doesn't sound like any Khajiit name I've ever heard. You don't talk like the folk from Elsweyr, either. Don't refer to yourself in third person," Valga questioned. Hawk sighed and wiped liquor off his whiskers.

"You people in Falkreath ask a lot of questions. I was saved from the Dunmer slave trade by two Nords when I was just a cub. You people in Skyrim do not know how to name Khajiit, so they called me Hawk's Storm. It is strange name, I admit. I grew up in Helgen," Hawk admitted.

"You're the most interesting character to come through Falkreath in a while, Hawk's Storm. Though that Argonian lady a few months back stirred up some trouble with a talking dog," Valga mused. Hawk's whiskers twitched in amusement.

Suddenly, Hawk's ears perked up at the sound of something being taken out of its sheath. The Khajiit turned suddenly towards his blind side. The Nord he had beaten just a minute ago was standing up, a dagger in his hand. Lurching forward, Hawk raked his claws down the side of the Nord's face. The Nord shrieked, stumbling back and holding his eye. His dagger clattered to the ground, silencing the bar.

"I may be half-blind, Nord, but my hearing is still intact," Hawk growled, turning to Valga. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I'll be taking my leave now. I should be able to make it to Riverwood before it is too late."

As Hawk exited, he heard one final remark from the Nord. "Thank the Nine, Khajiits aren't allowed in cities. That's the way it is. Don't see why _he's_ an exception."

Hawk took the trip down the road, fighting off a skeleton or two before he arrived in Riverwood. He collapsed in the Sleeping Giant Inn, his legs sore and his brain even more so.

The next morning the Khajiit was greeted by a worried Gerdur. "You said you just came from Falkreath, right? My brother said his Orc friend was supposed to be heading here, but he might've wandered off to Falkreath on accident."

Hawk flicked his ears in annoyance. Ralof was a Stormcloak, so Hawk couldn't care less about any friend of his. "I might have seen an Orc on the road. I am not sure." Hawk rolled his shoulders and left Gerdur in the dust before she could say anything else.

Hawk had always been a Nomad, it was in the Khajiit blood, it seemed. He travelled from town to town, looking for small jobs. He had been talking to Alvor about helping out with the smithing for some coin when a crowd began to gather at the gates. Naturally, Hawk left mid-conversation with Alvor to see what it was.

A group of Thalmor had entered Riverwood. The High Elf in the front rode a white horse, observing the crowd of Nords with disapproving eyes. Hawk's breath snagged when they made eye contact with him, nodding approvingly.

The Thalmor dismounted, taking down their hood. Loose, braided blonde hair fell from her head. She scowled at the citizens of Riverwood before dismissing the rest of the Thalmor. She raised a hand, quelling the influx of questions.

"I am... _Legate_ , as you would say, Graykaender. I've come to visit Whiterun, but I'm stopping in this town. I was sent to investigate the rebellion in Skyrim, and see if it is anything the Thalmor need to investigate," Legate Graykaender scanned the crowd, locking eyes with Hawk, "Khajiit, come here."

Hawk stood still, his eyes blazing defiantly. Graykaender strolled forward until she was nose-to-nose with the Khajiit. "When I give an order, you listen. Got it, _cat?_ " she sneered.

Hawk's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't dare attack the Thalmor when her escorts were so close by. Hawk raised his lip in a snarl, walking by Legate Graykaender and using his shoulder to throw her off balance. She stumbled backwards, and Hawk could feel her eyes boring into the back of his neck.

Hawk grinned at some Imperial Soldier, who had just entered. The Imperial soldier rushed up to the Khajiit. "Soldier, what are the Thalmor doing here?" the Nord questioned in a hushed voice.

"Legate Graykaender here is the new Jarl, apparently," Hawk responded dryly. He looked back at the High Elf, who was holding her soldier. He gave her a toothy grin before looking back at the soldier.

"By the Eight…" the legionnaire grumbled, marching up to Legate Graykaender. They had a very heated, hushed conversation that even Hawk's Khajiit ears could not hear.

Graykaender's occupation had become normal to the citizens of Riverwood after a couple of days. Hawk had stayed in the small town, only to watch the chaos unfold. The angry High Elf had fallen in the river multiple times, and Hawk never failed to get a good chuckle out of it. Graykaender _hated_ Hawk with a passion.

One day, Graykaender approached Hawk in the inn. "What is it you need, Jarl Graykaender?" Hawk teased, bowing lavishly.

Graykaender just scowled. "I'm heading to Helgen. I need a bodyguard on the road," The High Elf produced a fat purse of gold from beneath her robes. "Five hundred septims, standard fare for a mercenary." Hawk looked up, surprised to see that Graykaender was completely serious.

The Khajiit took the gold from her hands, sniffing. "Give me a few moments to get my armor, then we'll be off," Hawk agreed. Graykaender looked surprised that it had worked. Hawk just shrugged; he had been looking for work, after all.

A full set of steel armor and an iron warhammer later they were off. Graykaender rode her horse slowly, so that Hawk could keep up. "What is your name, Khajiit?"

"Hawk's Storm," Hawk purred, "but you have my express permission to refer to me as Hawk. I do not want your High Elven tongue squandering the sound." Graykaender chuckled. Hawk found that most folk were amused by his sharp tongue, especially since he often came off as a goody-two-paws. "I have told you mine. What is your true name, Jarl Graykaender?"

Graykaender paused, thinking for a moment. "I considered lying, but that wouldn't do much good. Loria. My name is Loria." The High Elf smiled down at Hawk, and for the first time Hawk realized that her nose and cheeks were covered in freckles, mirroring the night sky above them. Hawk, horrifyingly enough, found himself not hating this particular Thalmor.

"Loria," Hawk echoed, testing the name on his tongue. "That is a very Elvish name. Not solid, like a Nord, not as airy as a Khajiit. Like liquid, Elvish names are." The two continued in silence for a few minutes before Hawk broke it. "So, how did a Thalmor agent end up in Skyrim, anyway?"

Loria sighed through her nose. "Like I said, I've come to investigate the Stormcloaks. If you don't believe that's the truth, then that is too bad. That is my story and I'm sticking with it."

The journey to Helgen was a short one, although there were a few bandits and some wolves that Hawk needed to fight off. The guards at the gate first refused to let Hawk enter, but Loria convinced them that he was her official bodyguard. Helgen was a relatively large town, and seeing the Imperial banners, Hawk quickly relaxed. The keep loomed in the middle of the town like a stony giant.

Hawk quickly struck up conversation with Torolf, one of his childhood friends. His heart ached when he learned of all that had happened while he was away. "It sounds like you have had your hands full, old friend."

Before Torolf could respond, thundering hooves came through the door. Hawk turned quickly, surprised to see a courier coming through on a horse, running it full gallop. The courier stopped in the middle of Helgen, standing in his stirrups.

"Rejoice, citizens of Helgen! For Ulfric Stormcloak has been captured!"


End file.
